by Tony Riches
Richard studied the map as if he’s seen it for the first time. ‘Is there anything we need to worry about?’
‘The queen is raising an army. She is doing her best to finish us, Richard. Finish the House of York and all we stand for. It’s what she’s been planning ever since she was crowned.’
‘What are you planning?’ Richard realised the seriousness of what the duke was saying.
His uncle drained his goblet. ‘This so-called peace can’t last much longer, Richard. We’re going to have to fight for what we stand for.’ He looked at Richard. ‘This time the fight won’t be a battle like St. Albans. This time it’s going to be a war, a bloody war.’
Chapter 13 - Summer 1459
Richard waited impatiently for the commission of enquiry and wondered why he had even bothered making the trip to London. He probably could have stayed in Calais and let them draw their conclusions in his absence. The problem was the queen had made no secret of her desire to have one of her loyal followers in charge of Calais. He couldn’t risk playing into their hands and letting them use the incident as an excuse to remove him from his position.
The great carved door creaked as it opened enough to let the usher slip through.
‘They are ready for you now, my lord.’
Richard scowled at him, then remembered the man was simply doing his job. He followed the usher into a stuffy, wood-panelled room and found himself facing the grim faced commissioners. Seated along one side of a long table, they were all men he knew from the council. None were men he would ever call his friends. There was one chair set before them, covered in green leather. He was invited to sit and hear the charge that had been made against him.
‘Sir Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick and Captain of Calais, it is alleged that you attacked ships of the German Hanseatic fleet without due cause and brought the crown into disrepute. How do you plead?’
Richard looked into their impassive faces and wondered if whatever he said would make one bit of difference. ‘Not guilty.’ His confident voice echoed in the high ceilinged room.
They waited for him to continue and seemed surprised at his silence.
The Chairman cleared his throat and read aloud from his notes.
‘We are commissioned by His Royal Majesty to examine the official complaint that the Hanseatic Bay Fleet, during its annual passage to transport salt from the Bay of Bourgneuf to the Hanseatic ports of Germany and the Baltic, was attacked by ships under your command and seized in an act of piracy.’
Richard stood and addressed the commission. ‘My lords.’ He tried to keep the anger from his voice. ‘I have the king’s warrant to keep the safety of the seas, which permits me to undertake such actions in the waters of the English Channel as I see fit.’
The commission regarded him in silence and he realised they could have no idea they were being used by the queen. ‘May I also add that the court has unreasonably withheld the payments owed to me as Captain of Calais? I have to pay the men of the garrison by whatever means I can.’
The commission tried to continue questioning the legality of his claim. They seemed to have little else to say and Richard became increasingly irritated at their thinly veiled attempts to find a reason to remove him from his post. When they eventually adjourned for lunch Richard found Tully, who had been waiting all morning with the handful of men of his personal guard he had brought into Westminster Palace.
Tully looked at him enquiringly. ‘Is it over now, my lord?’
Richard frowned. ‘It seems they have been told to keep on until I admit I’m guilty!’ He was tired and hungry. ‘Where can we find something to eat?’
Tully pointed down the corridor. ‘They said we have to go to the kitchens, down there.’
Richard felt annoyed. ‘I’ve been visiting Westminster for many years. This is the first time I’ve been sent to the kitchens!’
Nevertheless he was hungry and followed his men. The place was poorly lit, with men and women baking and scrubbing, tending great ovens and steaming cauldrons. Curious faces turned in their direction as they entered and Richard was sure he heard his name as he was recognised by someone.
As they cut through the kitchen, one of Richard’s guards bumped into one of the cooks preparing food. The man swung a punch and hit him in the face. In a moment the scene turned into a brawl. Luke Tully and the other men of Richard’s escort tried to restrain him. A heavily built cook lunged angrily at Richard with a long steel roasting spit, yelling something about traitors. He dodged the blow by twisting sideways as he had been trained in years of fencing practice. Richard had left his sword behind when he went to the commission. He still carried his dagger and drew it, slashing one of his attackers on the arm.
The royal guards appeared and Richard spotted their commander. ‘I am the Earl of Warwick and take full responsibility for my men. This was simply an accident. Can’t you see?’
The guards ignored him and began to surround them.
‘Stand back!’ Richard held his dagger in the air. He looked round for Tully, who had picked up one of the carving knives and was using it to ward off the men behind them.
‘We’ve been set up, Tully. The guards arrived too soon. They were expecting something to happen!’
‘Let’s get out of here, my lord!’
One of the king’s men shouted. ‘Cut off their escape!’
Tully looked where the guards were headed and spotted a door leading out to the courtyard. He dashed to it and held it open while his men helped Richard escape the brawl.
Tully glanced back into the steaming kitchens. ‘One of my men is missing.’
Richard hesitated. ‘I don’t think we can help him. There are too many of them.’ He made a decision. ‘Quick, to the river. It’s the last thing they will expect us to do. The river was busy with boats and they soon found a barge for hire. Richard tossed the owner a silver coin to take them away from Westminster as fast as he could.
Tully put his hand to a badly bruised eye as they floated down the river to safety. ‘That was bloody close!’
Richard glanced down at his expensive black velvet tunic. It had been torn in the fighting. ‘I think this charade was all a plot to discredit me, Tully.’ He shook his head and remembered the thick set man who attacked him with a skewer. ‘It could even have been an attempt on my life.’
The bad news he had been anticipating finally arrived. Richard showed the letter to Anne. His uncle had been right. The queen was conscripting soldiers from every town and village in England. There could only be one reason and he had been called to bring as many men to the York cause as he could spare. His father was also making his way from the north to his uncle’s stronghold at Ludlow Castle.
She read it carefully. ‘Is this the war the Duke of York was talking about?’
‘It might not come to that.’ He looked into her troubled eyes and tried to reassure her. ‘We need to make a show of strength. Win over the people.’
‘You said that before St. Albans.’
‘I believed it then and I do now.’
‘Am I coming with you back to Warwick Castle?’
He thought for a moment. Six months had passed since he had been back to their home in England. The time had gone so fast, although he knew Anne was missing her home.
‘You are safest here with the girls.’ He smiled at her, trying to hide his concern. ‘Calais is probably the safest place in England.’
Anne didn’t laugh at his joke. ‘Send word as soon as you can, Richard?’
He could still see concern in her eyes. ‘Of course. I’ve no idea how long this will take.’
She held him close and whispered in his ear. ‘I’ll miss you.’
For a moment he found himself regretting that he had to go. There was a knock at their door and he opened it to find his flagship captain, one of Richard’s most experienced men. The captain looked uncomfortable about the news he had to deliver.
‘You need to come and talk to the captains, my lord. T
hey’re not happy about this.’
Richard was surprised. His men had loyally followed him in everything, even when they’d recently seized the salt ships of the Hanseatic fleet, a blatant act of piracy.
‘What on earth do you mean?’
The captain was a blunt man. ‘They won’t sail against the king, my lord.’
‘This isn’t about the king.’ He glanced back at Anne then turned to the captain. ‘Who put them up to it?’
The captain looked uneasy. ‘Andrew Trollope.’
‘Trollope? The Sergeant Porter?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘He was Lord Rivers’ man.’ He shook his head. ‘Thank you for telling me. I’ll come and talk with them right away.’
Richard felt troubled as they made their way to the harbour. A lot of the men in the garrison had stayed after Lord Rivers left. Richard needed their experience and Andrew Trollope was an experienced soldier, popular and well respected by the men. He realised why his men were not prepared to side with York. His captains were glad to see he had come in person. Richard had always encouraged them to speak their minds.
‘We are not sailing against the king.’ He looked at them. Their faces were serious.
One of the older captains stepped forward. ‘We hope you understand. We can’t make our men traitors to the king, so would you swear to that, my lord?’
Richard could feel himself getting angry. He saw Andrew Trollope standing in the background, observing how he was going to handle the situation. Richard had come to expect absolute loyalty from his men. After all they had been through together it unsettled him to see they were on the brink of mutiny.
‘On my honour, I intend to pledge my loyalty to the king, as does my father, the Earl of Salisbury, and the Duke of York.’
They sailed at noon. Every ship in Richard’s fleet was needed and it had taken them three hours to load two hundred men-at-arms and four hundred archers, as well as all their horses, supplies and equipment. Richard had known this day would come, and preparations had started soon after his uncle’s unexpected visit to Calais.
The town of Sandwich still showed traces of its ravaging by the French, with blackened trees and charred marks on the cobbled streets from the fires. Richard was glad to see that many of the houses had already been rebuilt and the people showed no sign of resentment towards him. His ships were soon unloaded and he made his grand procession through Canterbury to London.
Richard rode at the head of his red-coated men, flanked by his personal guard, drummers and fife players, with his standard bearer carrying his long banner of the bear and ragged staff. People came out of their houses, cheering. Richard noticed there were others in the crowd with worried faces as they watched him march past. Like his men in Calais, he realised they were unsure about his motives.
His plan had been to stay overnight in London then make his way on to Warwick castle where he would meet up with his father’s army. Soon after he arrived one of his supporters, a wealthy merchant, asked to see him urgently. Richard was tired from the long ride and sent a message that he would see him in the morning. His servant returned saying the merchant was insistent that he must speak with Richard right away. Richard reluctantly agreed. He had done well through his alliances with the merchants of London and needed as many friends as he could in these troubled times.
The merchant was ushered in. He was a well-built man dressed in dark blue velvet with a heavy gold chain around his neck. Richard stood to welcome him and noticed the look of concern on the merchant’s face.
‘Good to see you again, my friend. What is it that can’t wait until tomorrow?’
The merchant shook his head. ‘Can we speak in private, my lord? This is for you alone to hear.’
Richard dismissed his servants, intrigued.
The merchant lowered his voice. ‘The queen has an army lying in wait for you on the road to Warwick.’
Richard was shocked. ‘How many men does she have?’
The merchant was unsure. ‘I watched them march from here a week ago, my lord. I’d say at least two or three thousand men. I’ve heard there could be more now. They seemed a poor lot, conscripts mostly. There were also archers and plenty of knights with their retainers.’
‘I have my best men here in London.’ Richard frowned. ‘There are not enough to take on a force that size though.’ He looked earnestly at the merchant. ‘I’m grateful for your warning. We could have marched straight into a trap.’
‘Your father is still heading to Warwick?’
‘As far as I know. My brothers ride with him and I expect he has been able to raise a few thousand men. He can look after himself.’
The merchant hesitated. ‘I think it is well advised that you leave London as soon as you can, my lord. This place is full of spies and I’ve heard the queen has issued a warrant for your arrest. I fear it’s too dangerous for you to stay.’
‘I am in your debt. One day I hope to repay your service to me.’
The merchant forced a smile for the first time since he arrived. ‘You have many friends here. We all wish you the best of luck in what you have to do, my lord.’
Richard thanked him and the merchant left by the side entrance, out of view of the queen’s spies. As he watched the merchant go Richard called for a rider to take a message to his father. It might be too late, although there wasn’t anything else he could do. It angered him to think the queen’s forces had probably occupied his home at Warwick Castle and knew they would loot anything of value given half the chance. He consoled himself with the knowledge that at least his family were safe in Calais.
Richard was greeted by his father on his arrival at Ludlow and could immediately see something was badly wrong. His father’s right hand was bandaged and his tunic had been torn at the shoulder.
His father spoke with his usual bluntness. ‘Your brothers, Thomas and John, have been captured.’ He shook his head. ‘Thomas is wounded.’ His father looked like a beaten man.
Richard realised he hadn’t seen his brothers for over a year. ‘Where are they being held? Can we get to them?’
His father’s face was grim. He shook his head. ‘I tried.’
‘Let us hope they are being held for ransom.’ He looked around. Where is the Duke of York?’
‘Out on patrol with his sons.’
‘I’ve been told the queen is bringing thirty thousand men?’
His father was concerned. ‘They mustn’t be allowed to surround us here.’
‘The queen would hold a siege until we starved!’
‘How many men do you have, Richard?’
‘I have two hundred men-at-arms and four hundred archers and crossbowmen.’
‘I still have at least four thousand and there were twenty thousand here already and more on the way.’
‘Still outnumbered.’ He forced a smile. ‘Although we have the better men!’
His father smiled back for the first time. ‘Get some rest, Richard. Tell your men to do the same. We’ve a long march ahead of us and a hard fight at the end of it.’
Richard couldn’t rest and was waiting with his father when the Duke of York returned with the news that the queen’s forces were on their way. He was flanked by two armoured knights and Richard realised these were his uncle’s eldest sons, Edward and Edmund. He easily recognised Edward as he was a full head taller than the other two, his height made more noticeable by the York crest on the helmet he wore with the visor raised.
The duke dismounted and turned to them. ‘We’ll not wait for them to reach us here. We need to find a good position on the road and be ready.’
Richard’s father agreed. ‘Did you get sight of them?’
The duke shook his head. ‘We couldn’t risk being captured. Their conscripts are no match for our soldiers, though. What they have in numbers, we have in experience.’
Edward dismounted and removed his helmet. ‘And determination!’
Richard studied his uncle’s sons. Edward was tal
l and well-built with blond hair and an engaging sense of humour. His expensive armour had the dents and scars of a fighting man. Like his father, Edmund was sharp and observant, missing little of importance and already showing many of his father’s qualities. Both were too old to be husbands for his daughters, although they had all the right qualities. He hoped the duke’s other two sons would turn out as well.
When they were ready to ride he noticed Edmund was riding alongside the duke and Edward was sharing a joke with some of the young knights following behind.
He rode over to him. ‘You’re welcome to ride with me, Edward, if you wish?’
A broad grin flashed across Edward’s face. ‘Thank you. I’d be honoured, Earl Warwick.’
They rode side by side with the grandest York army ever assembled, to take on the Queen of England. Richard looked back and was pleased to see his red-coated men seemed in good spirits, with his banner flying proudly. It took most of the day to reach Worcester, only to see the king’s standard flying over the enemy camp. It meant the king was with them.
He rode up to where the duke and his father had stopped in the road.
The duke turned to him. ‘We’ll have to change our plans. I suggest we withdraw to Worcester and see if the king will consider our demands. Agreed?’
Richard and his father both agreed.
‘We can’t blame them.’ Richard looked back at the royal standard. ‘There are men with us who will not fight against the king.’
‘The queen knows it.’ His uncle scowled. ‘That’s why she’s made sure we all see it. Let’s hope the king is mindful of the last time he was advised to ignore our oath of loyalty, at St. Albans.’
They found a priest in the town who agreed to take their message to the king. They had a long wait and when he returned he did not bring good news. With the priest was the stony faced Bishop of Salisbury carrying his bishop’s crook and dressed in his gold-embroidered purple robes and mitre.
The bishop addressed the duke. ‘The king will pardon you all, except for the Earl of Salisbury, if you will lay down your weapons and surrender now. I have to tell you he has over fifty thousand men and more are joining his army each day, my lord.’